


holy night

by Alltidvinter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Fluff, First Christmas, Gen, Ghouls, Mostly Gen, Possibly Pre-Slash, References to Home Alone Movies, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 07:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17018493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alltidvinter/pseuds/Alltidvinter
Summary: The graveyard is quiet and beautiful, really, with the all-white gravestones and a soft, golden light coming from the windows of the church. The night air tastes of pines, so crisp that it hurts to breathe. Dean's dark, leather-smelling form is warm, though, so Sam huddles himself a little bit closer to him; Dean doesn't mind anyway. He's trying his best not to sneeze for the third time when a choir soars from the church.[Advent Calendar 2018 - Wincestare Cattive Come Sam][Prompt: #Canto]





	holy night

 

 

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that two brothers, sunk to their knees in the snowy ground of a graveyard, on the night of Christmas Eve, must be in search of a corpse-hungry _ghoul_. So, yeah. Dean and Sam Winchester. Some God-forsaken town, Indiana. Christmas 2005. No _ghoul_ in sight, not yet, but it won't be a long wait. Hopefully.

 

Sam sneezes, loudly.

 

"Please, go on. _Do_ wake the whole neighborhood".

 

"...'orry, Dean" Sam mouths, through dripping eyes. "Maybe we should try again tomorrow".

 

"Hell, no. One night freezing my ass out is more than enough".

 

Same old story: Dean leads, he follows. Sam sneezes again. There is no napkin in his pockets, so he must reluctantly settle for his own sleeve. Midwest winters are fucking cold and he's not used anymore to spend the night outside, waiting for God-knows-what.

 

"Can't you give it a rest? The poor bastard will hear you as soon as he sets foot outside the church"

 

 _Ghouls_ are scavengers, mostly. But this one's got a taste for blood - _living_ blood. And that's not even the end of it: it has taken the form of the formerly believed-dead pastor of the local church ( _a Christmas miracle_ , according to the newspapers). The sheer audacity had Dean laughing his ass off, while they were driving to Indiana. Doesn't take much to put an end to its kind, though, just the good ol' blow to the head. Midnight Mass will be over soon. A blow to the head, and then Sam will be able to go to sleep, even if it's tucked under cheap motel blankets.

 

So they wait.

 

The graveyard is quiet and beautiful, really, with the all-white gravestones and a soft, golden light coming from the windows of the church. The night air tastes of pines, so crisp that it hurts to breathe. Dean's dark, leather-smelling form is warm, though, so Sam huddles himself a little bit closer to him; Dean doesn't mind anyway. He's trying his best not to sneeze for the third time, when a choir soars from the church.

 

“ _O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining..._ ”.

 

Doesn't get more Christmas-y than this. It's almost easy to forget that the choir is lead by a flesh-eating monster. Dean bursts in a short, inexplicable laugh.

 

"What? Why are you laughing?"

 

"Come on, Sammy. _Home Alone_? Kevin McCallister? Fuck, I used to hate that kid. Don't tell me you forget"

 

Sam's head aches. "Yeah, I know _Home Alone_ "

 

“We used to watch it during the holidays, on cable. I wanted to see _Jurassic Park_ but you loved _Home Alone_. The first one, not even the funny one in New York. You used to have your feelings all over the place during the church scene. You know, the one when he talks with the homeless guy, with the choir and everything. Macaulay Culkin really had a thing for older dudes, if you think about it"

 

Sam tries to shrug it off, to ignore his brother's teasing voice, his stupid face too close to his own. But a stuffy nose and a throbbing head aren't exactly helping. He's definitely not used to this anymore.

 

"Once you even begged me to bring you to Midnight Mass" Dean says, his grin spreading larger and larger.

 

"Yeah, very funny" Sam utters between his teeth.

 

"You _would_ have made the prettiest altar boy, though..."

 

That's it.

 

"Okay, Dean, so what are you saying? That I'm... I'm a girl or whatever, because I used to cry on that scene? I didn't even like that movie. It reminded me that we were home alone too, except that there was no home. And mom would have never come back for us. So, fuck off, okay?"

 

"Woah, woah. Whatever, dude"

 

Suddenly, the graveyard is silent. Sam's heart is beating fast, his cheeks burning with anger – or is it the cold he's caught? He did hate that movie, though. And yet... a strange, bittersweet warmth always came with that scene, that song. 

 

“ _How you feel about your family is a complicated thing” - “Especially with an older brother” - “Deep down, you'll always love him. But you can forget that you love him. You can hurt them, and they can hurt you_ ”.

 

Dean's quiet voice draws him back to the moment. "Sam, watch out"

 

Mass is over, the faithful are flocking away. Kids and women and men, in heavy coats and snow boots, scurrying home for a last eggnog before bedtime. The night is jingling with laughter. Soon, the _ghoul_ will enter the graveyard for its grim supper. They draw themselves back in the shadows of the graveyard trees, lest someone sees them, shotguns already loaded. A dance whose steps Sam will never ever forget.

 

Dean's green eyes are lit with the spark of the hunt.

 

"C'mon, Sammy. Let's kill this son of a bitch"

 

Later on, they are drenched in sweat and black blood but now it is Sam's heart, not his head, that is pounding on a not-all-too-unpleasant rythm. Suddenly, he's hungry too. It doesn't take much for Dean to convince him to stop by at a truckers place, open 24/7.

 

His brother's consolation comes with food and hot coffee, spiked with whiskey.

 

The place is hot and full with smoke – no one likes to spend Christmas alone, apparently, not even the wanderers of the road and the pariahs of this God-forsaken town. Sam's hair is a mess and his nose is running but the alcohol in his belly warms him from the inside. He made a fool of himself, earlier at the graveyard. Getting emotional over old, sappy Christmas movies. But Dean doesn't seem to hold it against him: he doesn't tease, he doesn't mock. That's the great thing about Dean: he always knows where to stop. He even smiles at him, almost flirty. Suddenly Sam realizes that he hadn't thought of Jessica the entire night. He should feel guilty, he really should, but somehow guilt doesn't come to him as easy as usual. Tomorrow he will probably be bedridden anyway and he will have plenty of time for that.

 

Outside the snow starts falling on this strange Christmas, the first they spend together after so many years, with _ghoul_ blood still on Sam's jacket and a festive carol in his ears.

 

_O Holy Night, o Night Divine._

 

 

 


End file.
